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Authors: Chetan Bhagat
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of you, son.’ Mr
Somani repeated, finally ending his tribute.
I put on an expression of extreme awe and appreciation, as seemed
to be expected of me.
‘Not that my daughter Riya is any less. Let me tell you...’ Mr
Somani said. Riya interrupted him.
‘Dad. Stop,’ she said, somewhat rude and abrupt, considering she
was speaking to her father. Mr Somani smiled and let Riya speak.
‘Dad, I want you to meet Madhav, a good triend of mine from college,’
Riya said.
Mr Somani looked at me. He paused for a second before saying
hello. I had worn Shailesh’s best blazer and shirt, but it still didn’t
match the clothes of the other guests. Mr Somani, with his impeccable
taste, had noticed my less-than-designer outfit.
‘Hello, Madhav,’ Mr Somani said. He shook my hand in an
extrafriendly way, as if to compensate for the doubts of a few seconds
ago.
‘Good to meet you, sir,’ I said, my insecurities forcing me to say
‘sir’.
‘Madhav what?’ he said. Indians have to know your last name to
place you, ‘Madhav Jha,' I said.
‘Jha,as in...’
‘Bihar. I am from Bihar,’ I said, familiar with the upcoming
question. Mr Somani didn't answer.
Riya broke the awkward silence.
‘And that's Mom,’ she said.
Riya’s mother smiled and folded her hands. I wished her with a
namaste too.
A waiter arrived with a tray of drinks. Rohan took a beer, Riya
picked up a glass of wine and Mr Somani helped himself to a whisky. I
didn’t know what to take so I waved a no.
‘Nice party, Somani uncle,’ Rohan said.
Mr Somani lifted his glass for a toast. Mrs Somani made an eye
movement to indicate that some important guests had just arrived—-
someone incredibly rich or powerful, or both. Mr and Mrs Somani
excused themselves and sidled off.
Riya smiled at me. I smiled back at her, trying my best to fit in.
‘So you guys do college together, innit?’ Rohan said. His British
accent made it hard for me to understand him.
‘Yes, different course. Same college.’ Riya said.
Rohan was an inch shorter than Riya and five inches shorter than
me. However, his age and confidence made us seem like kids
answering his questions.
‘Basketball, that is wicked,’ Rohan said.
‘Wicked? Why wicked?’ I said.
He laughed, as if he didn’t mean it in a bad way. Even Riya smiled.
'What?’
‘Nothing. It’s such a British English thing,’ Riya said.
I guess I didn’t understand British or English things.
‘How do you like India?' I said, crying to make conversation.
‘Grew up here, dude. I left ten years ago,' he said.
I wondered if ten years could completely change a person’s accent.
‘Stephen's, eh? Top college. You must be pretty damn smart,’
Rohan said to me.
‘I entered through the sports quota,’ I said,
Riya’s eyes shuttled between both of us. She watched our man-to-
man equation. He was six years older, insanely rich and far more
accomplished. He also had a fancy accent, gelled hair and lived in
London. I was nothing compared to him. Yet, there was something
jerk-like about Rohan Chandak. Or maybe it was just my imagination.
At least I'm taller, I told myself to feel better.
‘Riya, babe, you only got guy friends? Or you have some lovely
ladies to introduce me to?’
‘Plenty. Come to the poolside.’ Riya said.
‘Yeah. Don’t make me hang out here with the oldies.’
Riya and Rohan turned towards the pool.
‘Hey, Madhav,’ Riya said.
‘Yeah?’
‘Stop looking so lost.’
We rejoined Riya’s gang.
‘Ah, so this is where the loveliest ladies in Delhi hang out,’ Rohan
said.
Why couldn’t I think of clever lines like that?
Riya introduced Rohan to everyone. Rohan held each girl’s hand
for a second, lifted it and said ‘a pleasure to meet you’ or something
like that. It was too much, if you ask me. However, the giggly girls
liked it.
‘So you are the London hot-shot,’ Yamini said.
‘From London for sure, madam, but not a
Somani repeated, finally ending his tribute.
I put on an expression of extreme awe and appreciation, as seemed
to be expected of me.
‘Not that my daughter Riya is any less. Let me tell you...’ Mr
Somani said. Riya interrupted him.
‘Dad. Stop,’ she said, somewhat rude and abrupt, considering she
was speaking to her father. Mr Somani smiled and let Riya speak.
‘Dad, I want you to meet Madhav, a good triend of mine from college,’
Riya said.
Mr Somani looked at me. He paused for a second before saying
hello. I had worn Shailesh’s best blazer and shirt, but it still didn’t
match the clothes of the other guests. Mr Somani, with his impeccable
taste, had noticed my less-than-designer outfit.
‘Hello, Madhav,’ Mr Somani said. He shook my hand in an
extrafriendly way, as if to compensate for the doubts of a few seconds
ago.
‘Good to meet you, sir,’ I said, my insecurities forcing me to say
‘sir’.
‘Madhav what?’ he said. Indians have to know your last name to
place you, ‘Madhav Jha,' I said.
‘Jha,as in...’
‘Bihar. I am from Bihar,’ I said, familiar with the upcoming
question. Mr Somani didn't answer.
Riya broke the awkward silence.
‘And that's Mom,’ she said.
Riya’s mother smiled and folded her hands. I wished her with a
namaste too.
A waiter arrived with a tray of drinks. Rohan took a beer, Riya
picked up a glass of wine and Mr Somani helped himself to a whisky. I
didn’t know what to take so I waved a no.
‘Nice party, Somani uncle,’ Rohan said.
Mr Somani lifted his glass for a toast. Mrs Somani made an eye
movement to indicate that some important guests had just arrived—-
someone incredibly rich or powerful, or both. Mr and Mrs Somani
excused themselves and sidled off.
Riya smiled at me. I smiled back at her, trying my best to fit in.
‘So you guys do college together, innit?’ Rohan said. His British
accent made it hard for me to understand him.
‘Yes, different course. Same college.’ Riya said.
Rohan was an inch shorter than Riya and five inches shorter than
me. However, his age and confidence made us seem like kids
answering his questions.
‘Basketball, that is wicked,’ Rohan said.
‘Wicked? Why wicked?’ I said.
He laughed, as if he didn’t mean it in a bad way. Even Riya smiled.
'What?’
‘Nothing. It’s such a British English thing,’ Riya said.
I guess I didn’t understand British or English things.
‘How do you like India?' I said, crying to make conversation.
‘Grew up here, dude. I left ten years ago,' he said.
I wondered if ten years could completely change a person’s accent.
‘Stephen's, eh? Top college. You must be pretty damn smart,’
Rohan said to me.
‘I entered through the sports quota,’ I said,
Riya’s eyes shuttled between both of us. She watched our man-to-
man equation. He was six years older, insanely rich and far more
accomplished. He also had a fancy accent, gelled hair and lived in
London. I was nothing compared to him. Yet, there was something
jerk-like about Rohan Chandak. Or maybe it was just my imagination.
At least I'm taller, I told myself to feel better.
‘Riya, babe, you only got guy friends? Or you have some lovely
ladies to introduce me to?’
‘Plenty. Come to the poolside.’ Riya said.
‘Yeah. Don’t make me hang out here with the oldies.’
Riya and Rohan turned towards the pool.
‘Hey, Madhav,’ Riya said.
‘Yeah?’
‘Stop looking so lost.’
We rejoined Riya’s gang.
‘Ah, so this is where the loveliest ladies in Delhi hang out,’ Rohan
said.
Why couldn’t I think of clever lines like that?
Riya introduced Rohan to everyone. Rohan held each girl’s hand
for a second, lifted it and said ‘a pleasure to meet you’ or something
like that. It was too much, if you ask me. However, the giggly girls
liked it.
‘So you are the London hot-shot,’ Yamini said.
‘From London for sure, madam, but not a
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